


Gifts Gone Awry

by corporatezombie, FYSeb



Series: Scenes from the Sagas [1]
Category: Guild Wars
Genre: Gen, Gift Giving, Wintersday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 21:31:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2888615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corporatezombie/pseuds/corporatezombie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/FYSeb/pseuds/FYSeb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Egill and Silas are having a mini vacation together in a cabin in the woods somewhere in the lands of the Norn. With Wintersday at hand, it can only mean one thing - the art of giving gifts! But what happens when one gift is of a greater magnitude?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To Give and Recieve

**Author's Note:**

> These two pieces were written for the December writing contest held by Ember Solace [SOL], a GW2 guild.
> 
> Chapter 1 is written by corporatezombie ("Cass").

Silas ripped back the canvas tarp covering the rick of firewood, the weight of the fallen snow making it a challenging task. He glanced over his shoulder. Old habits die hard, he scolded himself. This little cabin was miles from civilization and the snow, falling more heavily with each passing hour, made travel all but impossible. There were virtually no dangers to be wary of, but that never seemed to stop him. He tucked several hefty logs under one arm and replaced the canvas cover to protect the wood from moisture.

Pushing the door open gently, Silas stepped once more into the warmth of the single room of the building, and the equally warm company of his companion Egill, and knocked the snow from his boots. He laid the logs on top of the once-dwindling pile of kindling and forced the door shut, making sure the door latched. When he turned to face Egill, he smirked to see that Egill already had a small present in hand. He drew back his hood and unbuttoned his coat with one hand, the other smoothing his long hair into some semblance of order.

"You needn't have gotten me anything at all," he began. He had always made light of Wintersday gift giving, keeping low expectations so as not to be disappointed, but he admitted to himself, at least, that he was pleased. "But," he continued, "I got you something, too." He moved to the end of the large bed taking up the corner opposite the door and, after a moment of rummaging through the footlocker found there, he withdrew a box no larger than the size of his palm. Not as large as Egill's gift, he thought, but just as good.

Once he had retrieved that which he sought, Silas moved to take up his seat in a high-backed arm chair opposite Egill. He remarked, internally, how different Egill looked in the flickering light of the fire crackling in the hearth. How different he looked indeed without his armor. He scolded himself for staring and thrust his parcel, wrapped in brown paper and twine, at Egill. "Open mine first."

"You're awfully insistent," Egill chuckled. "But alright." Egill handed his box to Silas, which he held in his lap while he looked at Egill expectantly. Egill untied the twine and tore away the paper with the same delicacy and refinement Silas had come to expect from a man raised in a noble family but he froze when he racked open the lid to the small box. He turned the box to face the fire but his suspicions were confirmed when the light from the dancing flames reflected off the gold signet ring within. Egill swallowed hard. "Where did you get this?"

"Let's just say that the Autenberg family won't be causing your father trouble anymore," Silas smirked. He was unsure of exactly how Egill was processing the magnitude of the gift, but he was certain he had made an impact.

"This ring belongs to Augustus--"

"I'm well aware of it's origins," Silas interrupted. "But if it still belonged to Augustus, it would still be on his finger. No, that rings is yours, now, to do with as you please, and your family will be free from his libelous tyranny."

Egill gaped at Silas, his mouth slightly ajar. It was obvious he was speechless. "Well," Egill said, finally. "After that, my gift seems more than a little paltry."

"Nonsense," Silas responded quickly, but he could feel the silence between them growing. "Have... have I overstepped my bounds?"

"No!" Egill blurted. There was a long pause but eventually Egill sighed and gestured to the gift in Silas' lap. "Go on, then."

Silas gave Egill an encouraging smile and tore into the package with only a moment’s hesitation. “Oh,” he muttered.

“You hate it,” Egill asserted.

“No! I--” Silas cleared his throat as he tilted the package for a better look at its contents. A pair of masterwork daggers, no better or worse than the ones he already owned, each with a luminous ruby set in the pommel. Nestled between the daggers was a kit for the maintenance and care of the weapons themselves. “They’re great.” Silas smiled at Egill, but he could tell it did nothing to alleviate Egill’s mood. “I love them.”

Egill looked at Silas incredulously. “Liar.”

Silas frowned, almost imperceptibly, and inclined his head. He set his jaw before answering. “I will never lie to you, Egill.”

Egill averted his eyes. After what seemed like a very long pause, Egill mumbled, “You mean that?”

“I do,” Silas intoned without hesitation. He offered another smile before rising and heading to the window. He peered out at the sky for a moment before shaking his head. “It’s still snowing. It must be late, though.” He turned back to Egill and said with a smirk, “Which side of the bed do you want?”

“U-uh,” Egill stammered. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“There’s only one bed.” Silas’s smile spread across his face, any disappointment he may have felt replaced by amusement. Finally, he shook his head. “Nevermind. I’m taking the inside. You do what you want.”

“I didn’t mean, uh.” Egill cleared his throat. “It’s not a problem.”

“Uh-huh.” Silas moved to the door and slipped off his boots. “Whatever you say, boss.” He started stripping off layers of clothing and, when he reached the foot of the bed, dropped them into the trunk there. He was almost self conscious as he noticed Egill staring at him but he quickly slid into the bed. “Goodnight, then.”

As Silas rolled over and pulled the blankets up over his shoulder he felt his face droop. He had always feared for how Egill might perceive him and he may have finally overstepped his bounds, despite what Egill said. He squeezed his eyes shut and let the oblivion of sleep wash away his feelings.


	2. Letters To and Fro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part of the piece was written by Shnobes, inspired by corporatezombie's original entry for the writing contest.

I know not the hour that it is for it could be still of a decent hour of the night or yet far into the morning before the rise of the sun; my sense of time has left me completely in the silence of the cabin that I am sharing with Silas. The snow falls much gentler than it did earlier in the evening and the silence is heavy for all of the neighboring creatures have long since sought shelter in their dens, waiting out of the storm much as we have done. In the silence of the cabin I can hear Silas’ breath come and go, even and steady. I would not be surprised to learn if I had spent at least the last half an hour listening to him in his sleep. Maybe even longer. There is not much else to do at this hour of the night when you’re snowed in with someone else. At least not when you’ve made such a mess of things as I have done.

There are six exposed support beams in the ceiling above me. I know because I have counted them many times now. They are sturdy and only as dusty as one would find between regular cleanings. Without any signs of rot in the wood, I can only come to the conclusion that someone cares for this cabin. An obvious conclusion, of course, but I haven’t the faintest clue of who would do so nor how Silas came to know of this place. But here I lay in the dark of night counting crossbeams to stave off my embarrassment and shame.

No longer can I lay here in the comfort of the bed and contemplate the grievous mistake I have made. Ah, what a fool I have been! If only I had opened my eyes! But this is neither here nor now and I will do what I know to do - confess my foolishness to the one confidant I trust with such intimate knowledge of myself.

So it is that I rise from bed, not slinging back the blankets with great force and determination, but slinking, one foot on the floor and then another, as often I have seen Silas do in times of need. Or for greed, thief that he is. I wince for the floorboards are indeed cold and in the dark I stub my toe on a chair - or perhaps it is a table, I know not - cursing the gods and my own clumsiness under my breath. The last thing I want to do at this point is wake Silas. He does not stir as I fear he might but rather turns over in his sleep, pulling the blankets up a little higher. With a sense of relief I am able to find an oil lamp and get it lit in order to set out my writing supplies. Surely Drifa will understand the predicament that I find myself in and though she might find humor in it I know that she will treat me fairly over the matter.

With quill in hand and ink at the ready, I find myself writing by the flickering light of the lamp..

_My dearest Drifa,_

_I am writing home to you from a cabin in the woods as the snow falls steadily out of doors. For all that I know, because I was not told in explicit detail the location of said cabin by my companion and brother-at-arms, I am in the lands of the Norn and ne’er shall I see the green grass of springtime once again. It is with a heavy heart that I find myself writing to you, seeking solace and comfort in the written word and in your peerless understanding of such situations as I have found myself in. Worry not! I have not fallen gravely ill nor am I brushing close to Death, as it were. The gods, as ever, look and smile upon me, bless Dwayna and her tender mercies._

_No, my dearest and youngest sister, it is so much more sinister than that. That the embrace of Sickness and Death would be easier to stave off than the sincere and utter disappointment I have found in myself for I have scorned my most trustworthy and stalwart companion of recent. Know you Silas Zagat, the talented man who has wielded knife and gun at my side for months now? He who attended your delightful and fortuitous wedding as my company? I have written of him to you before, I know that I have, and exclaimed at great length the solidarity of our friendship, of which I am afraid I have shaken the foundation. Such blind stupidity on my part, sister dearest! Oh, Drifa, what am I to do?_

_It is on this day and in this place that Silas has given me a gift of such regard that I am not able to properly return the gesture. It is not that I do not desire to give such a gift in return but never had I thought that Silas had such regard for myself. He is quiet and he is reserved, choosing his words and his actions with care. This I know above all else and still I had not seen exactly how careful he had chosen his words in regard to our state of affairs, of our companionship._

_And the gift I had chosen for him! Such paltry thought! He could have received such a gift of beloved knives from a mentor or, by Dwayna’s tits, he could have purchased for himself! How cruel I have been in my disregard of him. If only I had opened my eyes and seen what was truly before me. Yet now there is nothing that I can do as I am stuck in this accursed cabin till the snowfall breaks and we are able to dig ourselves out. Still I fear that even if it were possible to rectify this situation, to beseech him to accept a gift worthy of him, that he would not for I have seen the crestfallen look of quiet despair in his eyes, when he realized to the extent that I had slighted him. Unintentionally, mind you!_

_It is with a heavy heart that I must bring this letter to a close, Drifa, for the hours have ticked by as I have written and the sun begins to rise. I know that Silas will rise with the sun, as often he does, and I would see this letter completed before then. Know that I hold you and your Beloved Husband, and Mother and Father dearest, in my heart as I travel, doing the work of the gods. It is in knowing that I make this world a better place for you and yours that gives me strength to continue to face the Risen, and other great trials as they come before me._

_I hope to find the gifts that I have sent to you and the Family are well received, especially in light of this blunder I have made with Silas. If e’er you should have a need, write quickly to me and I will see it done as in my power._

_With the greatest love and esteem, and much appreciation for your patience,_

_Your eldest brother,  
Egill Grimsson_

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_My beloved Egill,_

_What a fool you have been! Had I known what a fool my eldest brother could be I would not have left him in the esteemed company of one such as Silas! I know the specifics of what Silas has given you, although you did not care to share such detail with me yourself, which I understand as your letter to me was written in such haste, through the gossip of the town. Our mutual acquaintance, him known as One-eyed Jo, was quick to let me know of such detail and I must say, brother, again, and for all the years to come, that you are a fool. If you do not make this up to Silas, I shall be most wroth with you._

_I have not the time to scold you in full as the baby kicks and drives me to take up arms against the maid, who bothers me with such frivolous and well meaning topics as the colors of the drapes in the nursery. I will have it known that the gifts you have sent me and mine, and Mother and Father, were received with delight and much adoration._

_Fix this, Egill. You must exclaim to him the depths of your feelings for him for only this shall make it right._

_With the greatest love and esteem, and much patience for your foolishness,_

_Your youngest sister,  
Drifa Grimsson, wife of Tomas_

I fear that my shame and embarrassment is obvious to Silas as he watches me read the letter that Drifa has written to me. The call of the Ebonhawke guard signals the hour of the night in the silence between us.

He clears his throat and asks, almost gently, “Is everything well at home, Egill?”

I nod. “The maid annoys Drifa with worries for the baby but all is well otherwise.”

Silas smiles, knowingly, and seems pleased. “That is good to hear,” he says, and then stands. “I believe we are expected somewhere?”

Once again, I nod, and stand myself. The letter is refolded and I place it in my small trunk of valuables, safe with the other letters that I have received over the years. I straighten my back and square my shoulders, picking up the hammer I carry as I walk past Silas towards the door. I’m grateful that in picking up the hammer I am able to avoid looking him in the eye.

I cannot tell him. Not yet.


End file.
